


Harry Potter and the Pet Fiancée

by ap_aelfwine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Collars and Cuddling, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Gentle Mdom/Fsub, Non-Explicit, Safe Sane and Consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-05
Updated: 2013-10-05
Packaged: 2017-12-28 11:36:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/991572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ap_aelfwine/pseuds/ap_aelfwine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Second Year AU. After Hermione is disowned by her magic-hating parents, the combination of a Life Debt and Harry's promise to always care for her leads to our favourite couple finding themselves in an unusual relationship and making the very best of it with the help of their friends and two sympathetic professors.</p>
<p>Yes, Hermione wears a collar, but this is in every way a safe, sane, consensual, and age-appropriate relationship between decent people who love each other, with absolutely no humiliation, coercion, or violence and no activities more sexual than kissing and snuggling. Still, if that particular kink bothers you, you might want to go and read "On a Bright Summer Morning," "Hufflepuffs and Harmony," or "Summer of the Bundling Charm" instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harry Potter and the Pet Fiancée

**Author's Note:**

> Second Year AU warning. Harry/Hermione Warning. Gentle and Consensual Male Dominant/Female Submissive Warning. Collars and Cuddling Warning. Lack of Explicit Content Warning. Luna Warning. Good!Snape Warning. Yours Truly warning.  
> ***  
> The characters and situations of the Harry Potter series are copyright J.K. Rowling. They may not be used or reproduced commercially without permission. The use of these characters and situations is not to be construed as challenge to said copyright. They are merely borrowed for this work of non-commercial fanfiction, from which the author derives no financial benefit.

Harry put his and Hermione's corked sample vial into the rack on the Potions Master's desk. Hoping Professor Snape hadn't really noticed them, he began to turn away. Just then, he heard the dreaded words: "See me after class, Mister Potter."

Harry looked up. He had no real answer, but at least Snape didn't seem to expect one. Was there less scorn in Snape's voice than he'd become accustomed to in First Year? Harry wasn't sure. He glanced at Hermione. She didn't seem to have any better notion of things than he did, but he felt the sympathy in her eyes. These days it seemed as if more often than not they each knew precisely what the other was thinking or feeling. It had always been that way, a little bit, ever since they became friends. He wasn't sure if it had actually increased, or if it was only their now almost constant proximity that had increased his awareness of it.

They left the front of the room and returned to their table, where they cleaned out their cauldron. Harry wiped down their other tools and put both them and the ingredients away, whilst Hermione packed up their books in Harry's bag. It was a routine that had become as natural for them as breathing.

They were always partners now. The school rules for "non-standard pets: i.e. other than a cat, rat, owl, or toad" said that Harry had to keep Hermione "under his control, or that of a designated staff member or peer possessing sufficient physical and magical strength, at all times when outside his assigned House of residence." Surprisingly, Snape had made no attempt to force Harry to partner with one of the so-called official pupils in place of his pet, even during their first Potions lesson under Hermione's altered status.

When the bell rang and the others left the room, Harry and Hermione went to stand before the Professor's desk. "Weasley, Longbottom, Patil, Brown, I did not ask you to see me. Please go on to your lunch. Your friends will be joining you shortly." Harry looked away from Hermione and over to the door, where his friends were waiting. And did he see other students beyond them in the corridor, and perhaps even catch a glimpse of Slytherin colours, not to mention Millicent Bulstrode's curly black mane and Daphne Greengrass' blonde plaits? "I promise you," Snape continued, "that Mister Potter and Miss Gr... that is, Miss Pottersbond will not be harmed. Go on."

The young Gryffindors almost ran out the door. Harry stood silent, with his bag slung over his shoulder and Hermione's leash in his hand. He wished he could let go of the leash and take her hand instead, but he didn't dare risk Snape taking points for failure to control his pet. Not that Snape was anything like as quick to take points off him as he had been in First Year, but Harry wasn't inclined to take chances.

When Snape drew his wand, Harry tensed and prepared to drop, taking Hermione down with him and covering her body with his own. But the professor simply cast a _Colloportus_ and locked the door. "Now, then, Mister Potter, I find myself in the position of having to do something I have never done before: apologise to a pupil. From your first day here at Hogwarts, I have, I must confess, treated you unfairly, all because I could not look beyond your father's features to see your mother's eyes and your mother's kind spirit so strong in you.

"However, recent events have made the depth of my error abundantly clear to me. Mister Potter, I am sorry for my poor treatment of you, and in the future I will try my best to consider you as the good and decent young man you clearly are."

"Sir?"

"Mister Potter, when it came time for your first lesson after Miss Pottersbond's... change in status, I expected to see her humiliated, and to find myself in an impotent rage at my inability to protect yet another bright young witch. Instead, I found her dressed in her full school uniform, just as before, with only the unfortunate legal necessity of her collar and leash to mark her as any different to your fellow pupils. More than that, I saw you treating her with every possible courtesy, as if she had become your betrothed rather than your chattel, and even rebuking Mister Weasley when he made an unkind remark. With that, the scales fell from my eyes and I began to understand that you are far more than a mere copy of your father.

"Although I must admit that the adult James Potter was a decent man, in his, that is to say, in _our_ Second Year he was little more than a mean-spirited bully. I suspect that if L... any young girl had fallen under his legal control as Miss Pottersbond has fallen under your own, he would have immediately gone to work figuring out just how far he could push her public disgrace without falling afoul of the laws protecting human bondservants from physical and emotional abuse. In all likelihood he would have attempted to parade her in the nude through the corridors of this school, and when that was forbidden by the Headmaster or his Head of House he would have dressed her in the most fragmentary and embarrassing costume which he could devise. She would have written every essay for him and for all of his friends, and each waking minute of her every day would have been spent at their beck and call."

Hermione hugged Harry round the shoulders. "Professor, you needn't hurt my Harry with this--" She cut herself off abruptly.

Harry hugged her. "Professor Snape, any statements by my Hermione are my own legal responsibility, not hers, and I will take all punishments assigned to her, as is my obligation under the school rules, sir. I will leave her in the keeping of Professor McGonagall during my detentions."

"Twenty points to Gryffindor for taking care of your master, Miss Pottersbond. And another twenty points for taking care of your pet, Mister Potter."

Both children were silent. After a moment, Snape continued "Understand that I am not describing the characteristic behaviour of the young James Potter in order to hurt you, but in order to explain to you that at twelve years of age you have matured to a degree that your father did not attain until he was very nearly a grown man. Even more significantly, his maturing was in many ways the result of your mother's influence. And I question if even she could have reached him as... from the same legal position which Miss Pottersbond holds with respect to yourself."

"Thank you, Professor."

"No need to think me, Mister Potter. Just, please, take care of Miss Pottersbond. And please take care of him, Miss Pottersbond."

"I will." They spoke almost as one voice.

"And now you'd best run along to lunch. It wouldn't do to have your friends worrying about you, would it?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

"You might choose to take a moment to see to your pet's comfort, Mister Potter. I'd recommend you do, if she should wish it. Although I would also request that you not take too long. I'll be remaining here for a few minutes, but if I should be in the Great Hall for a significant length of time without the pair of you making your appearance, I would expect that your friends will be telling the Hufflepuffs. As Professor Sprout tells me they're all convinced both of you should have been housemates of theirs, I'm certain they will be ready to abduct me and interrogate me as to your whereabouts. And considering that Miss Bulstrode and Miss Greengrass would in all likelihood join in with them, things could go very badly for me."

Hermione smiled. "We can't have that, Professor. Thank you."

"Thank you, Mrs. Pott... that is, Miss Pottersbond."

Hermione blushed and stammered. "Thank you, Professor Snape," Harry said. "From both of us."

Snape cancelled his locking spell, and they left the room as he turned back to the rack of samples. They kept their arms about each other.

Not more than twenty feet before the staircase there was a little alcove in the wall, something that might have been an old archer's niche with its arrow slit opened up and glazed. That didn't make much, or indeed any, sense, considering that it was on the same level as the rest of the dungeon and the view it gave was of nothing but lake bed and murky water, but in the context of Wizarding architecture, once one thought of all the moving staircases and doors that opened on blank walls or led to different rooms depending on what time of day it was, it probably wasn't so exceptionally strange, after all. The alcove wasn't as private as a broom cupboard, but right now, with most everyone in the school already sitting down to lunch, it would be private enough.

After all, they weren't going to do any of the things that older students sometimes did in the privacy of a cupboard. Harry and Hermione hadn't yet engaged in any physical acts more intimate than a lot of hugging, a bit of kissing, their nightly pyjama-clad snuggle in bed, and giving each other clothed back-and-shoulders rubs. And when they wanted to enjoy each others' company in those ways they had the comfortable private room that Professor McGonagall had assigned to Harry the day that Hermione became his pet, on the grounds that he was now head of a household and needed space for himself and his dependent.

Harry had just decided he'd follow Professor Snape's advice and ask Hermione if she wanted him to take her into the alcove for a hug when she said softly "Could we, err... stop for a bit?"

"Of course, love." Harry leant close to whisper the last word in her ear, and let Hermione draw him inside.

"Oh, sorry!" It took Harry a few heartbeats to realise that they'd bumped into Millicent Bulstrode and Daphne Greengrass. Hermione was crimson.

He squeezed her tightly. "Sorry. Very sorry. Didn't mean to disturb you. We'll find somewhere else..." The little stone nook was just barely big enough for the four of them, but he had to believe Hermione would be uncomfortable at being hugged and kissed and having her hair stroked so close to two other girls, even if they were her friends. Not to mention that surely the two Slytherins would be uncomfortable at seeing Harry comfort her in front of them. That would be too intimate, much too close to the sort of thing that Professor Snape had praised him for not doing.

Sally-Anne Perks had asked if she could watch him kissing Hermione, one evening in the Common Room, about a fortnight after he'd been forced to put a collar and leash on his best friend. He'd not known how to respond. He'd not even understood why one of Hermione's former roommates would want to see them showing affection for each other. He'd wondered if it might be some harmless favour that girls would routinely ask of their friends and their friends' boyfriends, but then he'd felt Hermione stiffen beside him, which let him know there was something very wrong with it.

Fortunately, Parvati had overheard. She'd immediately asked Harry and Hermione to come over to the other side of the room and help herself and Lavender make sense of the chapter on Redcaps they'd been assigned as Defence homework, sparing Harry the awkward necessity of refusing the strange request directly. Sally-Anne hadn't asked again. He thought the other girls might have had a sharp talk with her that night, as it was a month after before she even spoke to him or to Hermione outside lessons.

"Oh, thank Merlin! You're all right? Both of you?" And now Millicent was blushing as well. "Err..."

"Millie and I were only taking a moment to go over our notes before lunch, of course. Can't let the Ravenclaws take all the best marks on the exams, can we?" Daphne's expression was deadpan.

"Oh, come off it, Daph. We wanted to be sure you were both all right. A dressing down from Professor Snape is never pleasant, and since the House of the Brave had all fled to the Great Hall, well, somebody had to do it."

"Thank you." It was all Harry could think to say.

"He actually... he only wanted to talk about Harry's mother. They were in the same year."

"Oh. Really? That's... not what I expected." Millicent still looked flustered. "Well, don't worry. Daph and I won't tell a soul, will we, Daph?"

"Of course we'll not."

"We respect your privacy. And Professor Snape's." Millicent's friendly smile was a lovely sight. In First Year, Harry would never have believed that a Slytherin would smile at him, unless perhaps they were gloating because something nasty had happened to him. He still didn't quite understand why Millicent and Daphne and so many of the other girls seemed to think very highly of him now, despite the fact that he was nearly always leading a girl about on a leash, but he was glad that they did. He'd spent most of his life with no companions at all, and even last year he'd only really had Ron and Hermione. It was nice to have more friends, even if he did wish it could have happened without the fraught situation that had precipitated it.

He still felt guilty about Hermione's change in status, despite her firm and constant insistence that she didn't blame him for archaic Wizarding laws and Hogwarts rules that had been created hundreds of years before they were born, not to mention the number of times she'd told him that, in spite of the embarrassment of having to wear a collar and be led on a leash when they were outside Gryffindor Tower, she was delighted to belong to him.

"And speaking of privacy, Millie, shouldn't we let Harry and Hermione have a bit of it? I'm thinking they surely didn't seek out an alcove so they could look over their notes."

"Right. If you'll let us out, we'll leave you two alone for a space. Enjoy!" Harry didn't know what to say to that. From Hermione's expression, she didn't, either. They both smiled at Millicent, and she smiled back, as if that was more than enough.

Daphne gave Harry a little pat on the back. "Have a good time, you two, and we'll see you at lunch. And don't worry, we'll let everyone know you're all right."

"Thank you. Both of you. For everything."

"Any time, Harry. Thank you for taking such wonderful care of our favourite Gryffindor study partner. Well, our _first_ favourite Gryffindor study partner... you're the only person who's ever explained how to steer a broom through a crosswind without getting blown off course in a way that actually made sense to me, did you know that, Harry? My dad and my uncles and my Aunt Helena who plays Chaser for the Harpies have been trying to do that for years, and could never quite manage it. I borrowed a broom last week from my cousin Anthea--she's a Ravenclaw in the year ahead of us--and it worked perfectly."

"Oh. Err, no, I didn't. Thank you, Daphne." Harry had been quietly amazed to discover that Hermione had joined an informal study group during First Year that included not only Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw girls but a couple of Slytherins. He'd never noticed until she told him during the first week of their new relationship, asking if she could possibly, once in a while, spend a few minutes with them. He'd been hurt that she would think he'd not let her continue to spend time with her friends, a hurt that healed a few moments later when he told her he'd never stop her doing anything that mattered to her and she'd hugged him hard enough to take his breath away, a hug that had led to their first full mouth-to-mouth kiss.

The only thing more amazing had been how readily the girls had accepted him into their study group. At first he'd only stayed because he didn't know any of them well enough to feel comfortable handing Hermione's leash to her. But within a fortnight he found he'd somehow, without any conscious intention on his part, become not only a participant but an actual friend of Susan, Hannah, Padma, Mòrag, Millicent, and Daphne.

Millicent gave him another little pat on the shoulder as the two Slytherin girls left the alcove. When they were gone, Harry and Hermione stepped back inside. "Um, so, would you, well, like...?"

Hermione smiled at him. "Yes, please." They embraced, and for a long moment they simply stood together, like that. After a little while, Hermione nuzzled at his cheek. He knew what that meant. It was exactly what he wanted as well. He trailed his lips along her cheek, until they reached hers.

It probably wasn't a full-fledged snog, at least as far as Harry understood what that meant. But it was a nice, pleasant, wonderful kiss between him and his very best beloved friend, who also happened to be his pet. Not long ago, he'd not really been able to imagine ever doing such a thing. Not with Hermione or with anyone else. Before Hogwarts, virtually every physical contact he could recall had been painful. The first hugs he remembered had been from Hermione in the chamber under the third floor corridor, and again before they got off the train in King's Cross Station at the end of First Year.

He'd only had the vaguest idea of what kissing even was. Certainly Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had never done such a thing, at least not in a place where they could be seen. He'd noticed pictures of folk in magazine adverts who were hugging each other and pressing their faces together, and he'd thought that somewhere, somehow, he'd seen someone else do something similar, but it had been as detached from his daily life as his vague, dreamlike memories of a gentle giant and a flying motorbike.

Hermione wound her fingers in the hair at his collar, pulling him closer to her. He liked it when she did that. He stroked the back of her neck and toyed with her plait. She'd taught him how to brush and plait her hair for her. That had quickly become one of his favourite things to do. He'd not tell Oliver Wood, of course, but he knew for certain that he liked it even better than flying.

They broke the kiss, and rubbed noses. That was called an Eskimo kiss, Hermione had told him, although she said it really should have been called an Inuit kiss, as that was what the Eskimos actually called themselves. Hermione smiled at him, very sweetly. "I love you, Harry. My own Master..."

"I love you, Hermione. But you know you don't have to call me 'Master'. It's not in the rules, even."

"I know. But... do you mind if I call you that, sometimes? I, well, I sort of like doing it. At least once in a while, when we're alone. It's all right if you'd rather I didn't. I understand..."

"Oh, Hermione, of course you can. You may, that is. As long as it makes you happy, it doesn't bother me at all."

She smiled even more brightly, and pressed her lips to the tip of his nose. "Thank you... Master. You know, the fact that you don't _make_ me call you that is precisely why I enjoy it so much."

"Oh." He didn't altogether understand what she was getting at, but if it was what his Hermione wanted, that was good enough for him.

"Have I ever really thanked you for taking me in, Harry? I was so lost when my parents said they were tired of paying for me to learn 'magic tricks and mummery.' I didn't know what I'd do, except that I couldn't do what they were telling me to do, and I didn't know what would happen. But there you were, and you saved me. Thank you, thank you so much."

She buried her face in his chest, and he nuzzled her hair. "Of course you've thanked me, Hermione. You've been _you,_ and you've kept on being you, and you've never blamed me for all this, well, the stuff with the collar and leash. I just wish I'd understood what it would mean when I said I'd take care of you as if you were my own, because I'm sure I could've found some other way to make sure you were safe and happy and could keep going to school. If only somebody had told me about Life Debts, and what they meant, and that saying I'd take care of a girl who owed me a Life Debt as if she were a part of my family meant she'd, well, belong to me, rather than becoming my sister or something..."

"Really, _Master_ , I could never, ever, under any circumstances have been your _sister_. I know we're young, but I don't think it's at all healthy or natural for a sister to feel about her brother the way I feel about you, the way I've felt about you for as long as I've known you. I mean, I suppose it's possible that a few Purebloods might marry their siblings, judging by people like Malfoy or Crabbe and Goyle, or at least... do things with them, although most think the idea is just as sick as we do."

"Oh?" Harry wasn't sure what to think about that. Would it have actually been a bad thing if Hermione _had_ become his sister, even to the point that it was better that she outright belonged to him? Put that way, he knew it was, since he couldn't stand the thought of her marrying someone else, and if he'd dared to think about marriage at all in First Year he would have realised he already felt that way.

Thinking about that made him think of the day in September when everything had changed.

#

Harry was caught up in the Weasley family's rush to Platform Nine and Three Quarters. He knew they were running far too late, so late that he didn't even want to think about what time it actually was, or about how they'd get to school if the Hogwarts Express left before they could board. Instead, he concentrated on managing his trunk and Hedwig's cage. It would be very awkward to knock someone over or squash their toes, and he would feel terrible if they were truly hurt.

He had a tangle of thoughts in his head: _How does the Statute of Secrecy survive this? Hasn't anyone in the Muggle world ever noticed that every year on the first of September there's a mob of weirdly dressed people with old-fashioned trunks and pet owls running through King's Cross Station? They can't all be ignoring everything, like that man in the grey suit with the mobile telephone--I'm sure Uncle Vernon will be getting one of those, even though he hates to talk on the telephone--who just nearly trampled Ginny underfoot. Is Hermione looking forward to seeing me? I wish Ginny weren't so shy, because they might like each other and Hermione would probably like to have a girl to be friends with. I've seen Ginny reading books more times than I've seen Lavender and Parvati reading anything that wasn't a fashion magazine, and she wasn't even in school. I do hope she'll get to know Hermione eventually..._

And then he saw her. She was sat on her trunk, all alone next to the portal, one small pretty brown-haired girl, twelve years of age, dressed in a neat Muggle outfit of skirt and blouse and blazer. Naturally, she had an open book resting on her knee, although she wasn't looking at the pages, which surprised him. Why had Hermione not gone in and got on the train as soon as she was dropped off? Was she waiting just to see him? And what did it mean if she was? He felt as if his heart might burst in his chest, but he wouldn't mind if it did because it felt so warm and so happy that he was sure it would be a nice kind of heart bursting.

Ron called out "Oy, Hermione! What's up? Conductor tell you all your books would break the Express, so you'd have to leave half of them behind?" Harry wished a Bludger would appear and smash some manners, or at least some sense, into his red-headed friend. _Oh well, Hermione will set him right._

But Hermione ignored Ron. Harry didn't know what to think. Was she having trouble hearing, as if her ears were stopped up with a cold? He drew nearer and said "Good morning, Hermione."

She sprang off her trunk, barely pausing to close her book and set it on the lid, and hurled herself into his arms, which he spread wide to catch her, obeying some reflex he'd never known he had. "Harry. Oh, Harry. So good to see you. I... I missed you." She was shaking, and clinging so tightly that he wondered if he might have Hermione-shaped bruises in an hour or two. He didn't care. It wasn't as if he'd not been bruised before, and if holding him with such force helped Hermione he was fine with it. _There's nothing I'll not do if it's what Hermione needs done._

"I've missed you as well, Hermione." He stroked her back, his fingers making little circles. She was warm, solid, and real. For the first time he became fully aware of just how much better any day when he could see her was when compared with even the best day when he couldn't.

He thought he heard Ron say "Don't smother him, Herms." That was stupid; Hermione would never hurt Harry, any more than he'd hurt her, and she hated being called 'Herms.' He would've liked to hit Ron for hurting her feelings, but it was clear Hermione needed him to hold her far more than she needed him to fight with Ron.

"It's not at all proper to make such a scene," Mrs. Weasley said, but he didn't care about her opinions right now, either.

"They're children, Molly, leave them be. I'll handle this," Mr. Weasley said, sounding firmer than Harry had ever heard him sound before. "Harry, Hermione? The Express is due to leave in a few minutes. Will you go through the portal, please? You can go together, if you'd like--we'll help you with your trunks."

Hermione sniffled a little bit and murmured "It's all right, Mr. Weasley. I... wouldn't want to put you to any trouble. Thank you." Letting go of each other wasn't easy; in fact, it almost hurt. But Hermione's little smile made Harry feel as if he could kill a dozen trolls with an ordinary spoon and fly to the Moon on a clapped-out school broom if only she asked him to do it, so he was sure he could keep moving until they were on the train, as long as she'd be there with him.

They all passed through the portal, Ron and his brothers first, Hermione ahead of Harry, and then Ginny and her parents behind him. He didn't know why it seemed to stick slightly before letting him in, as if somebody had been on the point of trying to stop him and then thought better of it, but he didn't care. If he'd needed to smash his way through the wall using the Reductor Curse, which he understood wouldn't actually be taught them until Fifth Year, he would have done, without taking the time to remember he didn't know how to cast it. Nothing was going to separate him from his Hermione when she needed him.

They reached the Express just as the engineer gave the next-to-last warning blast on the whistle. Mr. Weasley levitated their trunks up into the carriage for them, rather than delay the departure as they lifted them up themselves. Hermione took Harry's hand as they searched for a compartment, and he didn't care in the least that Ron rolled his eyes, although Ginny's little squeak did make him feel slightly uncomfortable. _I hope she'll calm down, so that she and Hermione can get to know each other and become friends. I'm sure Hermione would like somebody to talk to who's not a boy but who thinks about something other than dresses and makeup the way Lavender and Parvati do._

They found an empty compartment, stowed their trunks, and sat down, Ron and Ginny on the righthand bench and Harry and Hermione on the opposite one. After a moment, Harry put his arm about Hermione. She put hers about him, and somehow his hand that wasn't cupping her shoulder ended up clasped in her other hand, the one that wasn't squeezing tight to his own shoulder. Ron began to make fake retching noises, but a glare from Harry stopped him. Ginny looked a little sad and a little scared, and Harry felt sorry for her in the corner of his mind that wasn't completely taken up with his concern for Hermione. _I wonder if Ron told her that same stupid story about having to fight a troll that the Twins told him? I suppose I should have told her it was rubbish, or at least I could've done if I'd ever found a chance to talk with her beyond saying 'Good morning' and having her blush and stammer and sneak little glances at me when she thought I wasn't looking._

After a minute of silent sitting for the four of them, just as the train was beginning to gather speed on its way out of the station, a tiny blonde girl came into their compartment. For an instant Harry thought she'd boarded the Express without any luggage, but then he saw that a trunk was following behind her on many little wooden feet. "Hello, Ginevra, hello Ronald, hello very pretty and kind-looking boy and girl who both are hugging each other very sweetly and whom I've not had the honour of meeting yet although I deduce that you, sir, are Harry Potter," she said, all in one breath as if she had three or four times more lung capacity than her body could possibly have held.

"Hey, Looney," Ron said. Hermione bristled a bit at that, and Harry wondered if he was going to have to tell his first friend to shut up because he was hurting Hermione with every word he said. "Seen any Nogglefarts lately? Or do you smell them, ha ha?"

"Nargles, Ronald. They're called Nargles, and they've no scent at all. If they had any, the Umgubular Slashkilters would be able to track them down by it and eat them." the girl said, as calmly as if Ron had told her she was looking well and asked about the weather.

"Hi, Luna," Ginny whispered. The two girls hugged, very quickly and lightly, as if Ginny didn't want to be held for more than a few seconds. Harry thought the blonde looked disappointed, but he hadn't the energy to wonder why that was, as he was too busy worrying about Hermione and whether and at what point he should ask her what was wrong and how he could help her instead of waiting for her to decide it was time to tell him.

"I hope you've been having a good summer whilst Daddy and I were in Sweden, Ginevra. And I do hope as well that next year your mother will let you go with us, because the countryside is gorgeous, there are some wonderful places where we could go bathing under the full moon when the fairies are out dancing, and I think Swedish would sound wonderful in your voice, although I have to admit that the language lozenges taste something like salted liquorice drops with a hint of strong coffee, pickled herring, and lingonberries, which isn't nearly as pleasant a combination as it sounds. But the taste goes away after only an hour or two, and it leaves you able to say _Jag älskar Sverige_ \--that means 'I love Sweden,' and I'm very sure you will--in a nice Örebro accent. I've got a few extra lozenges in my trunk, if you'd like one, and that way we could practise our Swedish together all winter."

"Um, thanks, Luna, maybe later. Summer was... it was a summery kind of summer."

"I'm glad you had Harry Potter to keep you company for part of it, at least." Harry wasn't sure what to think of that, but he did find himself feeling badly that he'd let Ron stop him getting to know Ginny. Maybe if he had done she'd have calmed down enough to talk to him, and then he'd be able to introduce her to Hermione and then maybe Hermione would have another friend. That was important to Harry because he never wanted Hermione to be lonely and there were times when he couldn't be with her, for example when she was in the girls' dorm, so it would be a good thing if Ginny could keep her company there.

"Compartment's kind of full," Ron said. "Want to find another one, Harry, so the girls can have their space to talk about ponies or whatever it is girls talk about and we can get another game of chess in?"

Harry opened his mouth to tell Ron to shut up, but the blonde girl spoke first. "I most sincerely doubt that Harry Potter will be letting go of his charming brunette companion, Ronald. I can't blame him at all, really, as they clearly care for each other a great deal and she is extremely attractive as well. She's prettier than a Willoughbite in spring plumage, and that's very, very pretty. I'll be delighted and honoured and charmed to meet you when you're feeling up to meeting me, Harry Potter's Beautiful Brunette Companion, but please don't let me disturb you until you're ready."

Harry looked at Hermione, concerned she might be uncomfortable with the girl's words, but instead his best friend was smiling, very slightly, although her eyes were glimmering as if she'd come close to crying, and still might. She let go of his hand, and held hers out to the blonde, who took it. "Hello. I'm Hermione... Hermione, well, Granger. Pleased to meet you."

"I'm Luna Lovegood. It's an honour to meet you, Hermione. And I'm sure Ginevra's most delighted to meet you as well."

"And I'm Harry Potter." Harry held out his hand, feeling a little stupid for having just introduced himself to someone who'd obviously worked out who he was.

Luna smiled and squeezed his hand almost as tightly as Hermione had done. "It's wonderful to meet you and Hermione, Harry. And what's more, it's a good time for us to meet. It could have gone differently, and I've a bad feeling we'd not have met for ages, at least not properly, but I think it's much better this way for all of us. And now I'll give your hand back to Hermione, because I can tell that she needs it much more than I do right now."

Ron rolled his eyes again. "There's really not room, Looney. Hadn't you better find another compartment to share with all your Nargley-whatsits?"

"Shut up, Ron," Ginny said. "Luna and I don't take up that much space." She sat down again, a few inches closer to Ron, and the blonde sat beside her.

Harry didn't want to push Hermione into telling him what had her feeling so upset, not with an aggrieved Ron and two girls she'd only just met in the compartment. He turned towards her, their eyes met, and she smiled at him. "Thank you, Harry," she whispered. "I don't know what I'd have done if I'd not seen you. But as soon as I did, I knew we could get through this, somehow."

Had her parents died? Harry hoped not. He'd spent all his life that he could recall without his, but he couldn't imagine how terrible it would have been to known them for almost thirteen years and only then to lose them. Well, he'd take care of her if she needed him to, in any way that he could. "I'm here, Hermione. Whatever it is, we'll get through it together."

"What, did the price of parchment go up a--" Ginny drove her elbow into Ron's midsection. Harry would have thanked her, if he'd had the attention to spare.

"Oh, Harry, I... I don't know what I'm going to do. Mummy and Daddy... that is, my parental figures, they... well, they got the bill for my Second Year's tuition, and they decided that they were spending far too much money for me to learn 'magic tricks' that I couldn't even demonstrate in a controlled setting. They said ninety-five percent of what they'd seen could be explained by sleight of hand, and that even though there did seem to be some kind of real phenomenon going on in the other five percent it couldn't be worth much, since we don't see flying carpets taking passengers away from planes and trains and Wizards putting up satellites or building moon colonies, or doing anything to cure cancer and HIV, either." Her breath caught in her throat, and he wondered if she might start sobbing.

If Harry had been standing, somebody could have knocked him down with a feather. He'd always believed that Hermione's parents must be very nice people, to have such a wonderful daughter. He'd imagined a kind, loving couple who encouraged their daughter to learn and grow, the sort of parents he liked to think his own mother and father might have been if they'd lived. He remembered her showing up alone when they met to buy their school supplies in Diagon Alley, but she'd said they were very busy with their patients and he'd assumed that they knew Hermione was a responsible person and could be trusted to go on her own. He'd wished he could see them collect her outside the Leaky Cauldron at the end of the afternoon, envisioning a good-looking couple driving a high quality car, but not a stupid flashy one like the cars Uncle Vernon always drove, who would greet their daughter with hugs and a kiss on the cheek outside the Leaky Cauldron. He'd imagined them asking about her day as they sat down to dinner, the way a good family would do. He'd almost imagined himself joining them, although he'd never wanted to impose on Hermione's family.

"It... it's all right, Hermione. I... if you need help, I've got more than enough gold in my vault, and it seems to fill up over the year as if I'd never taken anything out the last time I was in Gringotts." He was dimly conscious of Ron glaring at him, but Ginny elbowed her brother before he could say anything.

"Oh, Harry, I couldn't... they'd not pay a single Knut. They said they'd only let me go at all in First Year because McGonagall suggested they might not have a choice, and because they thought surely I'd see how stupid it all was and be home before Christmas holidays with a valuable lesson learnt. They said they'd raised me to be rational and logical and to know that computers and microbiology did infinitely more good in the world than turning a teacup into a hedgehog or a grown woman who should know better pretending to be a cat. And they said I'd already wasted one year I could have spent at a respectable grammar school, that if I went back I was never going to catch up enough to get decent GCSEs, and even if I did somehow manage to sit for any A-Levels I'd never make the cut for Oxford or Cambridge or even one of the 'lesser universities'."

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I'll do whatever I need to help you. I promise."

"Oh, Harry. They... they told me that if I went back I could ask some Wizard or Witch to adopt me, or to keep me as a... well... a something, because I'd no longer be their daughter if I were to break the social contract by throwing away all the resources they and the rest of society had put into raising me. And I'm here. I couldn't give up magic, and I couldn't not see you again."

"I'm sorry, Hermione. And I don't know what a something is, but I'll always take care of you. My vault's more than enough for both of us, and when I asked the Goblins they said there was more family money I could use if it were really needed. You're my very best friend, Hermione."

"I don't want to be a burden, Harry. I... maybe Professor McGonagall can help, or the Headmaster."

Harry liked the idea of McGonagall or Dumbledore adopting Hermione as a granddaughter. That would be nice, because he was sure they'd be kind and caring grandparents. But what if it wasn't possible? What if they got to Hogsmeade Station, and Hermione were told to go? What if she begged and pleaded and they finally let her stay as an assistant to Hagrid or, worse, Filch? He imagined seeing his best friend sweeping in the corridors, straining her ears at doors to hear something of the classes, or following Hagrid about the grounds and carrying his tools for him. Harry would give her his notes, but it wouldn't be enough. He couldn't bear the thought of his brilliant and beautiful friend looking more worn and more haggard and hopeless with every day that went by. "Hermione, listen to me. I have the money, and I'll find some way of making more if _we_ need it. I'm told I'm famous, and that must be worth something. There's nothing I'll not do if it's what I must do to help you."

"Harry, I..." She broke down sobbing at last, and he turned on the bench to face her, gathering her in his arms. She buried her face in his shirt, and he could feel tears soaking through to his skin. That was fine. His shirt could be wet, if that was what needed to happen for Hermione's sake.

"Hermione, I promise that I will give you whatever you need. And if for some reason the professors say I'm not allowed to pay your Hogwarts fees I'll go away with you, even if we have to sleep rough in the Forbidden Forest. I promise you that I'll always take care of you as if you were my own." He felt as if he should have put something after those two words, but he didn't know if he should say "sister" or just plain "family" or maybe even "wife," so he didn't.

She murmured something. He thought it might have been "I'm yours, Harry," but he wasn't sure and he wasn't about to ask her to repeat herself. She pressed herself against him, as tightly as she could, so close that not even a sheet of paper could have been slipped between them, and he held her as she cried, stroking her hair, rubbing her back, and whispering gentle words in her ear. Harry had never felt more needed, not even when they'd stopped Voldemort taking the Philosopher's Stone, as if everything else in his life, most definitely including the whole Boy Who Lived business, were simply a minor footnote to his central role as the person who would always be there to care for Hermione Granger as long as they both should live.

After a while he realised that both Ron and Ginny had left, but he wasn't entirely sure when that had happened. It didn't matter. He supposed he was vaguely sorry the two Weasleys had felt so uncomfortable that they went to find another compartment, but he had Hermione to care for and that was more important right now. Ron was his best mate, and he found Ginny likeable, at least to the degree he'd been able to get acquainted with her, but they had brothers and parents. All Hermione had left now was Harry, so he had to make her his first priority. _I suppose this means I can't be a kid any more,_ _but I'm not sure I ever was one. I've always taken care of the Dursleys' house, but now I have a person to take care of instead, a good person who's my best friend in all the world, and that's so much better. I've always wanted a real family. I only wish Hermione hadn't had to lose hers in order to become mine._

Hermione was cried out for the moment, but she kept her face tucked against Harry's shoulder. She could stay there as long as she wanted to, or at least until they reached Hogsmeade Station and had to get off the train. Harry was used to sitting still. At least this time it was to help his best friend, rather than because he'd be struck if he moved much.

Someone coughed politely. He realised that Luna was still in the compartment. "Excuse me, Harry and Hermione, but did you happen to notice that you're glowing? It's a very pretty sort of glow, and I compliment you on it. Then again, you're very pretty people, and you look absolutely adorable and gorgeous together, so I suppose I'm not surprised that a glow coming from you would be such an amazingly pretty one."

Harry didn't know what to say. Part of him wondered if he should ask Luna to leave, for Hermione's sake. He didn't want to be rude, and she seemed very nice, but he thought Hermione might be uncomfortable with how she'd been crying in front of someone she'd only just met. Then again, maybe Luna was a girl Hermione could become friends with, and maybe Hermione would like to have her at hand in case she needed to say something that she couldn't say to a boy, even Harry? "Err... thank you, Luna."

Hermione looked up. She was smiling. Harry had always liked her smile, but this was the prettiest he'd ever seen it. Her eyes were red and puffy, but at the same time she was almost shining in the sunlight from the window. He wondered if that was what Luna was talking about. "Thank you, Luna."

"You're welcome. Would you prefer if I left the pair of you alone, in case you might want privacy? I'm certain I could find some other place to sit, although I'm also certain that I could not find such pleasant and admirable and interesting company."

"That... that's okay, Luna," Hermione said. "Is it all right with you if she stays, Harry?"

"Of course it is, as long as it's all right with you."

"Yes."

Hermione was sniffling, so he dug his handkerchief out of his pocket. "Would you like this?"

"Please." Harry'd thought Hermione would take the handkerchief from his hand, but instead he found himself wiping her eyes for her and even holding it to her nose when she blew, as if she were a small child. He'd seen someone do that for their child, some mother who wasn't Aunt Petunia or some father who wasn't Uncle Vernon. Well, he'd said he'd do whatever Hermione needed him to do, and if that was what she needed he'd not think twice about it. "Thank you, Harry," she said when she was done.

"Thank you, Hermione."

They passed the rest of the train ride together in the compartment. Sometimes they chatted with Luna, and sometimes Luna read her book and Harry and Hermione whispered softly together, and sometimes they all watched the countryside go by in a friendly silence. When the cart came round Harry bought even more than he'd bought for himself and Ron last year, because Luna was there to share it with them and neither Harry nor Hermione had packed any lunch at all. It was the best trip on the Express, or anywhere else, that Harry had ever had, although he wished it could have happened without Hermione's parents breaking her heart.

When it came time for them to change into their robes, Luna excused herself to go and use the lavatory. "Should I step outside so you can change, Hermione?"

To his surprise, she clung to him once again, as tightly as she had done in the station. "Please, Harry, I... could we just turn our backs on each other? I don't want to be far away from you, right now. I hope it's not too strange?"

"No, Hermione. I don't want to be too far from you, either. It's fine." It was, after all. They weren't going to take off all their clothes in the same compartment together and put their robes on over their bare skin. Thinking of that made him feel a little funny, and he still wasn't sure if he liked the variety of funny feeling in question or not. In any case, it had seemed to be happening to him more and more often over the summer, especially when he thought about Hermione.

"Harry, are you all right? I'm sorry if..."

"Oh, Hermione, I'm sorry. It's fine. There's no reason why we can't, so we should, because we belong together." And there wasn't. They could have faced each other, even, since all they were doing was putting on a tie and a jumper and their open robes over the clothes they were wearing. Still, he waited for a minute after he was done, and then said "May I turn round, Hermione?"

"Oh, Harry, of course you may!" They hugged each other. "You didn't really need to ask me," she whispered, blushing. "I... I was still wearing my shirt and even if... well, you can always look at me, Harry, wherever we are. I don't mind. In fact, I like it. If that's all right?"

"If it's all right with you, it's always all right with me. We're a team, Hermione. Now and forever."

"Now and forever." They hooked their little fingers together, as if they were small children.

A few minutes later, Luna rejoined them. Not long afterwards, the train slowed to a halt. Out on the platform, they said good bye to their new friend and watched her skipping towards Hagrid and the boats. "Nice girl," Hermione said. "I like her."

"I like her as well. Shall we find a carriage, my lady?" He offered Hermione his arm. She laughed happily, almost a giggle, or at least as close as Hermione had ever come to giggling, and took it. They strolled towards the carriages, following the other students.

Much to Harry's surprise, Professor McGonagall was coming towards them. He didn't remember her being at the station First Year. Perhaps she had something to say to the engineer?

"Mister Potter? Miss Granger?" Wait. Why was Professor McGonagall looking for them? Was it because of Hermione's school fees?

"Hello, Professor. My parents left me plenty of money, and Hermione told me her parents, err... couldn't pay her fees this summer, so you can take it out of my vault. I'm sure they'll be able to pay me back later." Hermione gripped his arm, almost tight enough to hurt.

"That won't be necessary, Mister Potter." _What? That doesn't make sense. Money is money, and Hermione's been admitted to Hogwarts since last year, so surely I can pay for her, right? Where will we go if they tell us to leave? I've gold in my pouch. Will it buy us a room and a meal in Hogsmeade? Or will we have to sleep rough and hunt or fish or something? Well, it doesn't matter. We're together, and we_ _will be wherever we go._

"Professor McGonagall, I have promised to take care of Hermione. Where she goes, I go, and if she's not welcome in Hogwarts, neither am I. If we're not wanted here, we'll make our own way. I grew up alone in a cupboard, and any place, even a hollow tree in the Forbidden Forest, will be a palace in comparison as long as I'm with my best friend."

McGonagall blinked, almost as if she were trying to stop herself tearing up. But that didn't make sense, because surely the Deputy Headmistress wouldn't cry, would she? "Mister Potter, that... will not be necessary. The doors of Hogwarts are open to you and your companion. But I must tell you there was a change in the register of students a few hours ago. Miss Hermione Jane Granger is no longer on the list."

"As I said, Professor, I will pay my Hermione's school fees, just as I promised her I would do. I surely have enough money to educate both of us for this year, at the very least, especially considering I'm told my own Hogwarts fees were prepaid by my family the week after my birth."

"Mister Harry James Potter is no longer on the register, either. Instead, Harry James, the Potter of Potter, is registered, as is, in an addendum to his registration, his bonded follower, Miss Hermione Pottersbond." Harry didn't know what that meant. If Hermione's name had changed because her parents had rejected her and he'd promised to care for her, then why was her name now "Pottersbond" rather than simply "Potter"? He glanced at Hermione. She was silent, her face blank. He put his arm about her, not caring what McGonagall or the other students might think of it, and she pressed herself into his side.

"Will we walk a bit apart the now, for privacy's sake?" McGonagall said, after a brief pause. Her accent had become stronger than he'd ever heard it before.

Hermione nodded. As long as she didn't mind, he'd do as the Deputy Headmistress asked. "All right, Professor," he said. Silent, their arms about each other, they followed McGonagall to the opposite end of the platform, away from their fellow pupils and the horseless carriages they were boarding.

"I will begin by saying that neither of you is in any trouble at all. Whatever you may have done or had done to you, you've broken no school rules, nor any magical laws. Did anything out of the ordinary happen between the pair of you on the train? For instance, were any words said you'd not have said last year?"

Harry looked at Hermione, unsure of what to say. He didn't want to violate her privacy, but he didn't know if she felt able to talk to anyone but him about what her parents had done. He could feel her trembling. For an instant, he wanted to kiss her on the lips, right then, to prove to her that he regretted nothing and would never ever let her go. She met his gaze at last. There was a question in her eyes, as if she were worried about violating _his_ privacy. He nodded.

"Professor," she said, "my parents wanted me to give up magic. They told me that not only would they not pay for my further schooling here but if I returned to Hogwarts they'd disown me. I couldn't stay with them and never cast a spell or see my very best and dearest friend again, so I hauled my trunk onto the commuter train and went to King's Cross Station. And when I told Harry what had happened, he said he'd help me."

"I promised her I'd do anything she needed, Professor, and I keep my promises. I wish Hermione's parents hadn't done that to her, but I know something about not having parents. I've taken care of my relatives' house since I could barely walk, but now I've got Hermione to take care of instead, and I always will."

"I see... Now, then, I find myself suspecting there must have been a Life Debt between you. Perhaps because of a certain incident with a troll?"

Harry'd never thought of it that way before. "Ron did help..."

"Not much, Harry. And he was only there because you made him come along. Not to mention I was only in danger in the first place because of what he'd said to me."

To Harry's surprise, McGonagall smiled as if she were amused. "I did wonder about that story. And was there anything specific that either of you said on the train?"

"I said I'd care for her as if she were my own."

"And I said I was yours, Harry. Because I am."

"And that, combined with the Life Debt, explains the changes in the register of students. Mister Potter... Harry, Miss... Hermione now belongs to you. She may attend lessons and do coursework, with your permission, but her status at Hogwarts School is essentially that of a familiar or other pet. Not that you have to give up your owl, of course. There's an exception to the one pet rule for situations like your own."

"But... people aren't pets, Professor. I can't possibly own my Hermione."

"In this case, you can, and you do, so far as the law--and magic itself--is concerned."

"But that's slavery, Professor. I'll do whatever I have to do to protect Hermione, and if she has to belong to somebody then I want her to belong to me, but she shouldn't belong to anybody except herself."

"It's all right, Harry. I know you'll always take good care of me, and you'll never sell me or whip me or do anything cruel to me."

"It's not the same thing as slavery," McGonagall said, dabbing at her eyes. "You're not allowed to sell her, to give her away, to lend her, or to let anybody... molest her. You're forbid to starve her, to beat her, to do magical experiments on her, to force her to labour in any manner that would degrade or injure her, to abandon her, or to harm her physically or emotionally in any way. Not that you'd ever be such a villain, of course, Harry, I ken that full well, but you needn't fear seeing another young Witch fall into the same position and be treated with cruelty. But you are considered to be Harry's property, now, Hermione. I wish it weren't so, but it is."

"It's fine, Professor. I'll be fine. I know Harry will treat me like a princess, as if I owned him rather than him owning me. I'd rather be his pet than be a Muggle, which is what my _former_ parents wanted. I'd rather be _my_ Harry's pet than be anything else in the world. I trust him." She beamed at him, and he had to hug her with both arms.

"This has happened as a result of your promise to care for a friend, Harry. Although I regret the circumstances that drove you to it, I think that this will be a positive thing in both your lives, and I am glad to see the two of you together and taking care of each other. I do have to confess that I've always thought I would eventually see a relationship of such closeness between you, although I'd imagined the day would come some years from now." Professor McGonagall was smiling more broadly than he'd ever seen her smile before.

"Thank you, Professor."

"There are, however, certain unfortunate rules here at Hogwarts. In the Fifteenth Century, Headmaster Walter de Brun and his Deputy, Margaret de Brun, who was also his wife, were frustrated to see that students were getting round the rules against concubines and body guards by bringing "bonded servants," in some cases three or four apiece. They decided that the only way to control the situation was to require that bonded servants be treated as pets. Non-standard pets, to be specific, who must wear collars at all times and, additionally, must be kept leashed when outside the owner's House of residence. So... I must request that each of you give me your tie. Have you others, I hope? It's all right for you to go without ties until your classes in the morning, and you needn't fear you'll have points taken for not wearing full uniform tonight."

Harry wasn't sure why McGonagall wanted his tie, but it apparently had something to do with taking care of Hermione, so he untied it and handed it over at once. Hermione took hers off as well. For some reason he liked the way that her taking her tie off exposed a little bit of skin at her throat. It looked very soft and pale and lovely, and he couldn't stop himself wondering what it might feel like to stroke that spot with his fingertip, or even to kiss it.

McGonagall took the two ties and slipped her wand into her free hand. Moments later, she held a leather collar and a long, thin chain leash. They looked the sort of things one would use with a dog. "Mister Potter, if you would, well, collar your pet, please? Once that's done with we can go to the castle, and then we'll see about finding proper accommodations for the pair of you. As you have a bonded follower, you're now officially _The_ Potter, despite being underage, and you and your retinue will live together rather than in the dormitories."

He didn't know what to do. The thought of putting a collar on Hermione, as if she were an animal that needed controlled, was very wrong. But if it was what the rules required him to do so that she could stay here at school with him, if it was what he needed to do in order to keep her safe and let her go to class, then he supposed it was his responsibility to do it, after all.

He looked his best friend in the eye. She smiled. "Go ahead, Harry. I trust you. Put it on me, please. I'm yours." And so he did. His hands trembled slightly, and he couldn't help touching her throat with his fingers. She beamed at him, as if she liked him touching her there. Her skin was just as soft as he'd imagined. There was a little ring on the collar, right in front where it would rest between her collarbones, and he clipped the leash to it.

"I'm sorry. I hope that's... as okay as it can be."

"It's good, Harry. Thank you." They hugged, and then, hand in hand, they followed Professor McGonagall into the sole remaining carriage. All the other students were gone, now; the First Years, Luna and Ginny amongst them, would be in their little boats out on the lake and the pupils in the other six Years would be in their carriages, all chattering about the holidays and their plans for the year ahead. Harry and Hermione sat facing the Deputy Headmistress, their arms about each other, not talking. Harry tried not to think about the leash he held loosely gripped in the hand that wasn't on Hermione's shoulder.

When they reached the castle, McGonagall led them in through a side door and they followed her up a spiral staircase. "If you'd like, I'll leave you sit in my office whilst your accommodations are being set up. You'll have private quarters of your own in Gryffindor Tower, as is appropriate for the Head of an Ancient and Noble House and his retinue. Am I correct in assuming you'd prefer not to attend the Welcoming Feast? It's not forbidden you, but I suspect you might prefer to avoid the attention."

"It's up to you, Hermione."

She gave him a tiny urchin grin. "I think that would be more comfortable, please, Professor."

"Then it's fine with me."

McGonagall's office was just as it had been last year, a pleasant little room, lined with bookshelves. A Highland broadsword and targe hung behind her desk, with the Silver Arrow broomstick she'd ridden as Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch side in the early Forties above them. There was a fire in the grate, filling the room with a sweet earthy scent that he'd only ever smelled here.

"You may remove the leash, if you wish, Mister Potter. Miss Pottersbond may go unleashed anywhere in Gryffindor Tower, as the rules only require her to be under your direct control in the public areas of the castle." Harry unclipped the leash and, for lack of anything else to do, folded it up and tucked it through his belt. Hermione took his hand.

McGonagall gave them a seat in a single armchair, which was just big enough for two twelve-year-olds who didn't mind being close together, and transfigured another chair into a table. Moments later, the table was covered with dishes, all the things that each of them liked best. Harry felt a bit guilty for thinking it was the best meal he'd ever eaten, despite the fact that his best friend was sitting beside him with a collar round her neck, a collar with a little tag that said she was his property.

She smiled at him, and for some reason he thought about feeding her. He wasn't sure if it would be polite to ask, especially when she might not feel brave enough to say no if she didn't want him to feed her, but he liked the idea of Hermione eating a bite of some especially succulent treat off his fork, or even from his fingers.

"Open wide, Harry," she said.

"Hm?"

"You're thinking instead of eating, there's a lovely treacle tart in front of you, and you're really a bit too thin. So, I suppose I should feed you, shouldn't I?"

"You don't have to."

"But I'd like to. You take care of me, I take care of you. It's only fair."

"Okay." He let her put a forkful of tart in his mouth. It tasted better than it ever had tasted before, as if whoever did the cooking at Hogwarts had invented a special recipe just for the two of them tonight. He chewed and swallowed. "My turn, please?"

"But of course." Hermione's expression was blissful, as if it were the best treacle tart she'd ever had as well. They fed each other the rest in turns, bite by bite, eating from the same fork. When they were done, Harry found himself contemplating Hermione's lips. What would it be like to press his own against them, and kiss her, and be kissed by her? He'd seen Sixth and Seventh Years doing that, once or twice, in the corridors or even in the Gryffindor Common Room. He'd not thought much on the matter at the time, but it looked as if they enjoyed it. Would Hermione?

They gazed in each others' eyes for a long moment, as if they might both have been thinking about the same thing, and Harry didn't know what might have happened if Professor McGonagall hadn't knocked on the door and then opened it. "Your new quarters are ready, Mister Potter and Miss Pottersbond. Are you done with your meal?"

They were shielded from the Professor's sight by the back of the chair. Hermione's lips quirked into a little smile. Swiftly, she leant forward and nuzzled his cheek. He nuzzled hers. They pushed the table forward and stood. The empty dishes had disappeared when they weren't looking, and McGonagall waved her wand, turning the table back into the second chair it had been.

"As a general rule you'll enter and exit your residence through a door off the Common Room. It's charmed to let no one in but yourselves and the staff. It's not that I don't trust you, but you might find yourselves pressured, let's say, to allow upper years the use of your quarters for certain purposes. This will give you an easy excuse for refusing them."

"Thank you, Professor." It seemed the appropriate thing to say, and McGonagall gave him a little nod as if she approved.

"Tonight, however, I'll let you in through my office. I will not be using that door except in an emergency, so you needn't fear I'll be walking in on you when you're alone together. It's simply that I expect you'd prefer not to answer questions this evening. Your friends have been told that a minor magical incident has caused you to miss the Welcoming Feast, although you're both expected to recover by morning. I presume that's acceptable?"

Harry looked at Hermione. Their eyes met. She gave him a little smile and nod, and took his hand. "Yes, Professor," he said.

They followed McGonagall through the door that had somehow appeared in the wall behind her desk, and out into a generously-sized room with oak wainscotting and wallpaper in Gryffindor crimson and gold.

"Oh, Professor, it's gorgeous. Thank you so much!" Hermione sounded almost deliriously happy. Harry wished he could hug Professor McGonagall, to thank her for making his best friend feel so cheerful after all the bad things that had happened to her today, from being disowned by her parents to being forced to wear a collar with a tag that said she belonged to him.

It looked a comfortable place, with two desks and chairs, a couch just the right size for the two of them, a low table, and a small magical fireplace, much like the one that warmed the boys' dormitory. There was a big four-poster bed with both their trunks together at the foot of it, an armoire, and a chest of drawers. There was one door leading to an en suite bath and toilet, and another that must have been their access to the Gryffindor Common Room. It took Harry a minute to realised that one thing was wrong. "Professor, I don't see any place for Hermione to sleep and change her clothes in. Just because the rules say my best friend is now my pet doesn't mean she doesn't deserve a bedroom and a comfortable bed. Surely you don't expect her to sleep in the armoire, or on the rug like a dog? In any case, I'll sleep there until she's provided with everything she should have. She's a member of my family, and I'm obliged to take care of her."

Hermione almost looked as if she might cry again. He hated that she was unhappy because someone had forgot to provide her with the privacy and comfort she deserved. He folded her into his arms. "It's all right, Hermione. I'll see it sorted. Whatever you need, I'll get it for you."

"Oh, Harry. I'd really be more comfortable... but I understand... well, I suppose boys must have things they don't want to do when they're in front of a girl, but, well, I hope I'm not being a burden on you. I'm sure I'll be fine with a camp bed or something..."

"No, you'll have the proper bed, and I'll have the camp bed. I slept on a pallet in a cupboard until I got my Hogwarts letter, so I'll be fine with it. All that matters to me is that you're comfortable. I'm sorry that your privacy is being taken away like this, and I promise you I'll not impose on you or make you, err, do things you don't want to do. I'm sure we can get it all sorted eventually."

To his surprise, Professor McGonagall was laughing. "I commend your concern for your friend's comfort, Mister Potter, but I believe that her definition of that comfort may differ from what you think it is."

"Hermione?"

"Could I, Harry? Please? Could I..." her voice dropped to a whisper "sleep next to you?"

"Hermione? Is that really what you want?" She nodded.

"I've no right to dictate your sleeping arrangements, Mister Potter and Miss Pottersbond, any more than I've a right to dictate what you wear--or don't wear--when you're alone in your room together. But I assure you that there is absolutely no reason why you should _not_ share the bed."

"Oh. Err... if you really don't mind sleeping in the same bed, Hermione, it's fine with me. I only want you to have what you want and need and deserve. All I'm afraid of is making you do something you don't want to do."

"Thank you, Harry. I would like to. And I'm not afraid of that at all. I trust you."

"You have the right--more than that, the duty--to do anything and everything you need do to comfort and care for her, Mister Potter. It doesn't matter what you think anyone else would say if they knew of it; if you're concerned, don't tell them. The only opinions that matter are hers and yours. When in doubt, remember that."

"Thank you, Professor. I will."

"Speaking of which, do you both know about the, well, the anatomical differences between boys and girls? And the biological reasons behind those differences?" To Harry's surprise, McGonagall looked just as embarrassed as he felt. Hermione appeared mortified as well, and he reckoned it was his duty to take care of her in this as in all other things.

"They taught us all of that stuff at Muggle primary school, Professor." Her eyebrows tried to merge themselves with her hairline. "Err, not how to _do_ anything. They told us about puberty, and boys' and girls' anatomy... down there and how pregnancy happens, and that we shouldn't do it until we were grown up and married, that's all."

"I'm very relieved to hear that, Mister Potter."

"I had the same classes, Professor. And, well, I was able to read all sorts of books in the public library when nobody was looking."

"Thank you very much, Miss Pottersbond. Under normal circumstances, you'd have a series of special lessons on the subject in question during the fortnight before your Christmas holidays. We have a set book, which is distributed in the classroom as we understand it might be uncomfortable for children your age to have to buy it at Flourish and Blotts. I've taken the liberty of leaving one copy for each of you on your chest of drawers, in case you might like to review it. If you have any questions at all, of course, you're welcome to ask either myself or Madam Pomfrey. She's a Healer of thirty years' experience, and I'm an educator since before your parents were born. Rest assured we've heard it before, and we'll not judge."

Hermione had regained enough composure to give McGonagall a cute little grin. "I assume there aren't any _significant_ differences between how, well, _it_ works for Muggles and how it works for Wizards and Witches, that way, Professor?"

"No, the basic biology is the same. There are spells and charms that make certain pos... err, that open up possibilities... well, you'll understand when you're older. But there aren't any differences you need concern yourself with at the moment."

"That's good. I was worried there might be something I didn't know about. I wouldn't want to think I could get pregnant from kis... err, from saying it might be nice to have kids some day." Hermione and McGonagall had equally crimson faces. Harry would have laughed, except he couldn't bear seeing Hermione uncomfortable.

"No, magical pregnancies happen by just the same cause as Muggle ones. Although... in cases when betrothed couples, to which your status is near enough for our purposes here, cohabitate, it's my duty to offer them a contraceptive draught. I know you're some years younger most couples who share a room and a bed, and I know you're both good people who'll take care of each other and you'll not do anything you're not ready for, but it might be wise, just in case, so you'll have one less thing to worry about in the future. One dose will keep you safe for four years, and, well, speaking from experience it's not unlikely that you'll feel yourselves ready for some level of... let us say, fully unclothed intimacy by the time you've turned sixteen, and accidents will happen. Madam Pomfrey gave me them this evening, along with a mild sleeping draught you can take before bed in case you have trouble falling asleep. I've left all the phials atop your chest of drawers, beside your two books. They're clearly labelled, so you'll know which one is which."

"Thank you, Professor." Harry felt he had to be the spokesman for the two of them right now. Not that he'd do anything to stop Hermione speaking her mind, but she seemed more subdued than usual, and slower to respond. Well, she had reason for it.

"You're welcome. And, again, if either of you should ever wish to speak with me about anything at all..."

Hermione seemed a bit recovered. "Thank you, Professor. We will."

"You're welcome, Miss Pottersbond." Much to Harry's surprise, McGonagall laid a hand on each of their shoulders. "I'll leave the two of you to yourselves. There's no formal lights-out for students living in private quarters, although obviously you don't want to stay up too late and be exhausted all day during your classes. Good night."

"Good night, Professor." She stepped back into her office, and the door melted away, becoming an ordinary section of wall.

Harry and Hermione stood there hugging for another long moment after she'd left. At last, Hermione yawned. She didn't manage to cover her mouth until after the fact. "Err... sorry."

There was something almost intoxicating about the soft blush on her face, coupled with her shy little smile. "It's okay, Hermione. It... it was cute, really."

"Cute? Harry, you practically got to see my tonsils. I'm sorry for subjecting you to that."

"They're cute tonsils."

"Oh. Really?"

"Yes, really. They're yours." They looked each other in the eye for a long moment. Slowly, they moved their faces forward, until they were lip to lip. It wasn't a true kiss, being more a tiny peck, but it still seemed one of the finest things Harry had ever felt.

Afterwards, they stood silent for a while. Hermione was warm in his arms, and her breathing was so soft and steady that Harry wondered if she might fall asleep standing up. If she did, he'd have to put her on the bed and even draw the covers over her, wouldn't he? But what was he meant to do? _She'll want her shoes off, I'm sure. Would it be all right if I took them off for her? I know she belongs_ _to me, but I said I'd never violate her privacy. Do feet count?_

"Goodness, I'm sleepy, Harry. Are you?"

"Yeah. I'm glad you're still awake, cos I was worried I'd have to take off your shoes, and I wasn't sure if that was okay."

"Hm?"

"If you fell asleep standing up, I'd have to put you to bed, and I didn't think you'd want to sleep with your shoes on, but..."

"Harry, I..."

"I know you belong to me, but it wouldn't be right for me to act as if you were an animal or something and just start taking your things off you."

"Oh, Harry. You're the sweetest boy--the sweetest _person_ I've ever known. Thank you. And if I ever fall asleep standing up or sitting down or anywhere that's not in bed with me in my night clothes, you have my permission to take my shoes off my feet before putting me to bed. And my socks as well." She touched him gently on the tip of his nose with her index finger. "I'd even give you permission to take off more than that, but I don't want to embarrass you."

"Oh. Um... thanks." She was teasing him, and his heart rose at the thought that she was not only happy enough to tease, but trusted him enough to tease him about taking off her clothes, with no fear that he'd respond by peeling off her robes and jumper and blouse and maybe even everything else to satisfy his boyish curiosity about girls' bodies. He had to tease her back. "But are you _sure_ I'm the one who'd be embarrassed?"

"Would you be, Harry?"

"Err... kind of. Would you?"

"I'd be a little embarrassed as well. But someday..."

He didn't know what to say to that. "So, we'd better get ready for bed, I suppose. Would you like the bathroom first, Hermione?"

"It's up to you, Harry. I'll be fine either way."

"Well... would you rather I had it first, so you can take as long as you like?"

"If you're sure you don't mind, that would be good."

He grabbed his pyjamas and grooming kit and headed into the bathroom. As swiftly as he could, he changed clothes, cleaned his teeth, and washed his face. Would Hermione want his hair combed? He didn't know why she would, especially since his hair would be back looking exactly the same three minutes after he'd got done combing, but something made him think she might prefer if he at least tried to smooth it, so he took out his comb, ran a little water on the teeth, and did his best.

He couldn't help noticing that they had been given the nicest bathroom he'd ever seen. The floor and walls were tiled in black and white geometric designs, and everything was sparkling clean and in perfect repair. The tub stood on clawed feet, something like unmoving versions of the ones on Luna's trunk, although these were made of metal rather than wood and there were only four of them, and the tap was elegantly curved and cast with a design of vines and leaves spiralling round it. Hermione was quieter about it than, say, Parvati, but he knew that she did like pretty things, so it made him happy.

As well as being pretty, the bathtub was huge. He couldn't help thinking that there was more than enough room for the two of them to have a bath together. Hermione would put her hair up in a neat twist, the bath would be full of bubbles, and they'd sit quietly, facing each other, holding hands, just being friends and enjoying each other's company. A floating bubble would cling to the tip of Hermione's nose, which she'd wrinkle up as if she were trying not to laugh. _It would burst, and then I'd wipe the soap off her nose with a flannel, and--Stop it, Harry._

That wasn't a good thing to think about. Not only was it rude to imagine Hermione naked in the first place, it was especially rude to imagine invading her privacy by having her go naked when he was in the same room. It would be hard enough for her to wear a collar and be leashed all day without him making her take baths with him. Not that he'd ever do such a thing, of course, but he shouldn't think about it, either, even if the Hermione in his imagination was not only covered almost up to her shoulders with bubbles but happy and willing and completely unafraid, as if she'd asked _him_ to take a bath with _her_.

He left the bathroom. Hermione was sitting on the bed, dressed in her pyjamas, blue and white striped ones with big pearl-coloured buttons, and reading a book, with her collar looking very dark against her pale throat. She'd put up her hair in a twist, just as he'd imagined her wearing it in the bath. She looked amazingly cute, and Harry's breath caught in his throat. "Hermione. You, you look nice."

"Um, thanks, Harry. So do you." He looked down at his patched hand-me-down pyjamas, not sure what she was seeing at all.

"Thanks, Hermione. Well, the bathroom, it's all yours. And I'm sorry I didn't knock before coming out into the room. I should have realised that you might decide to change."

"Oh, Harry. It's fine. You didn't walk in on me, and even if you had done I wouldn't have... well, it would've been all right." She put down her book and slid off the bed. Before he realised what she was doing, she'd hugged him. "Thank you for being so good to me, and so careful of me. I... You're my best friend in all the world, Harry."

"And you're mine, Hermione. Thank you."

She nuzzled his cheek. "Mm, Harry. Well, I'll go and clean my teeth. I'd thought about taking a bath, but I think I'm too sleepy. I hope you don't mind?"

"Why would I mind?"

"Well, I might be kind of smelly after hauling my trunk into the station this morning, mightn't I?"

He sniffed her. There was a faint trace of sweat, but he found that he very much liked that little hint of salt. Mostly she smelt of lavender, which he thought must have been in her shampoo. He wanted to keep smelling her, but he thought it might make her uncomfortable. "You smell nice just as you are, Hermione."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Do I smell all right? I didn't take a bath, but I could if you want me to..."

Hermione sniffed him. Then she buried her nose in his collar, drawing in a deep breath. "Oh, Harry, you smell wonderful. Please don't take a bath. Well, at least not until tomorrow morning. After all, we can't have all the other girls smelling you and asking if they can become your pets as well." She nuzzled his neck. "I hope that's not too selfish of me."

"Err... thanks."

"Thank you, Harry. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Okay." They let each other go.

Harry went and sat down on the bed. Hermione had left her book sitting on the duvet. He was fascinated to see that it was a Muggle book, _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland,_ rather than a schoolbook or one of the tomes on magical theory or Wizarding history that he was used to Hermione reading in the Common Room. He'd skimmed through a copy of it one afternoon after school in the Little Whinging library when he was hiding from Dudley and company. He'd wished he could take more time with it, and with the other Lewis Carroll books beside it on the shelf. He'd have to ask her if he could read it when she was done.

"Hey, Harry." Hermione settled onto the bed and put her arm around him.

"Hey, Hermione."

"Do you want to know a secret, Harry? You're always welcome to read my books, and you were welcome to even when I didn't belong to you." She must have noticed the direction of his gaze.

"I didn't want to open it up without asking you..."

"And that's another example of what a wonderful person you are, Harry. But I really don't mind. In fact, I formally grant my best friend and protector Harry Potter permission at any time to read any book in the personal library or temporary possession of his pet and best friend, Hermione Pottersbond _née_ Granger. How's that?"

"Thank you, Hermione. You can read any of my books as well, at least if you want to." He took her hand and squeezed it gently. "I don't think I've ever seen you reading Lewis Carroll before."

"My... the people who raised me didn't like me wasting time on non-realistic stories, but his books were classics, so it was okay, because they built vocabulary and the cultural references might be important on my English literature GCSE, not to mention for understanding editorials in the _Guardian_. Somehow I wouldn't have thought you were very familiar with him, yourself."

"Well, you know how Ron doesn't like books much, unless they've chess or Quidditch in. And when it was just the two of us last year it always seemed to be when we were revising for a test, so I never... well, I suppose it never came up. Only I used to hide in the library after school, to avoid Dudley, and because if she hadn't work for me to do Aunt Petunia didn't want to see me. Merlin knows what my relatives would have done if I'd ever checked out a book and brought it home, but I could sit and read whatever I felt like reading when I was there, especially if it was shelved in an out-of-the-way place where it wasn't likely I'd have people who lived in Privet Drive seeing me and telling me they were onto me and that if I put one foot out of line there'd be consequences."

"I used to hide in the library as well. The kids from school who didn't like me wouldn't go there, and there wasn't anybody to say I should be reading good books about science and history, or at least important novels that would make me into a well-educated person, not escapist trash fiction about starships and dragons."

"Oh." Harry didn't know what he wanted to do more: hug Hermione and never ever let her go for even an instant, or turn her parents into mice, do the same with the Dursleys, and put them all together in a cardboard box which he'd leave in a room full of hungry cats.

He settled for the only thing he could do at the moment, and hugged her tightly. She hugged him back, and somehow they ended up lying down on top of the duvet, on their sides and in each others' arms. He stroked her back, running his fingers down her spine from the nape of her neck to about halfway to her waist, which he reckoned was as far down as he dared to go. After all, her shirt might have ridden up slightly, and if it had he might find himself touching the bare skin of her back, which seemed too close to touching the bare skin of other places that had always been covered up by her clothes when they were together in the past, back before a train ride and a promise and a collar. If he went any further down that slippery slope, who knew where they might end up?

"Hm, are you ready to go to sleep, Harry? I could sleep like this, but our feet might get cold in the night without the duvet, and I'd imagine you'd like to take your glasses off."

"Yeah, I wouldn't want to sleep in them. They might get bent, and more importantly I'd be worried about them sticking you in the face." They extracted themselves from each others' arms, and Harry sat up. "And do you want me to get you your draught?" He realised what he'd said, and his face went hot. "The sleeping one, that is. I don't reckon we need the other one yet. Unless you think we should?"

Hermione's face was crimson, but at the same time she looked happy, as if he'd somehow done something very kind at the same time as he was embarrassing them both. "Thank you for thinking of me, Harry. I'd like that, if you would, please. And I think we'll be okay without the other draught tonight."

"You're welcome, Hermione, always." He went to the chest of drawers. There were two slim clothbound books, which he didn't feel comfortable looking at right now, two little square bottles, and two other small bottles that were shaped like hearts, one with the circle-and-spear symbol for Mars embossed in the glass and the other with the circle-and-cross symbol for Venus. He read the paper labels to make sure, and picked up two square bottles.

Hermione was standing by the bed, and he handed her one of the bottles. "Well, here you are."

"Thanks, Harry. If we get into bed and take them, we can put the empty phials on that little table. I expect you'll want to put your glasses there as well?"

"Yes." He folded back the duvet. The sheet was very white beneath the scarlet and gold coverlet, and the two pillows laid side by side were the biggest he'd ever seen. "Err... do you want to get in first?"

"If you'd like me to." The bed was a bit high, over waist height for both of them, as if it had been meant for full-grown adults, not children of twelve years. Hermione made a little hop to get onto the mattress, which was a delight to watch, and slid over to the centre. Harry climbed up after her.

"Would you... well, would you like to take your collar off for the night, Hermione? I mean, it must itch or something... it's up to you, of course."

"Oh, Harry. It feels... that is, it doesn't feel uncomfortable at all, but it might be nice to sleep without it. Would you?" She stretched up her chin slightly.

"If you'd like me to." Again, he couldn't help touching her skin. He wanted to kiss her throat, right where the buckle had lain, but he wasn't sure if that was appropriate. After all, he understood that kissing was only for grown-ups, at least if it wasn't on the cheek, and a kiss there might lead to kisses somewhere else. He hoped Hermione would tell him to stop if he did anything she didn't like, but he didn't know for sure if she would, and he didn't want to take the chance.

She smiled at him, keeping her chin raised almost as if she'd like him to kiss her. "Thank you, Harry. Not that I mind wearing it--please don't think you'll be hurting me when you put it on me tomorrow--but I'm grateful that you're so thoughtful."

"I... you're welcome, Hermione. He reached to take his glasses, off, so distracted that he didn't think about how the collar was still in his hand until it was almost touching his lips. It was so close, and before he knew what he was doing he'd kissed the inside of the leather band, right where it had rested on Hermione's throat. She looked happy when he did that, so he supposed it at least wasn't a terribly bad thing to do. He took off his glasses and put them, together with Hermione's collar, on the table. "So, are you ready to take our sleeping draught?"

"Sure. Thank you, Harry." The potion didn't taste bad, for once. He was close enough to Hermione that he could see the little smile on her slightly blurry face.

He turned off the light, leaving the room illuminated by nothing except the faint glow of the grate, and lay down. "Ready to go to sleep, Hermione?" He thought of reaching out to take her hand, but it occurred to him that holding hands might make it harder for her to fall asleep, and he didn't want to make her think she had to do it.

"Almost," Hermione whispered, and shifted closer. He realised that their heads were on the same pillow. He liked it that way. "Is it okay if I sleep right here?"

"Of course."

"You're so good to me, Harry. Could... could we hold each other?"

"If you'd like to." He reached out and took her into his arms. She snuggled against him.

"Is that all right?"

"It's wonderful. Good night, Hermione."

"Good night, Harry." He thought she murmured something else as they fell asleep, something that started out with "I..." but it might have been his imagination.

#

Hermione's little kiss on his ear brought him back to the present. "Yes. Millie and Daphne say that folk have been gossiping for years about how much alike to each other Draco's parents look, and whispering that Mr. Malfoy's father and Mrs. Malfoy's mother both had reputations for unfaithfulness. But we weren't raised like that, were we?" She giggled. Harry didn't think he'd heard Hermione giggle during First Year. He'd always associated giggling with girls like Parvati and Lavender who, although they were never really mean to anybody, also never seemed to be serious about anything.

He wasn't entirely sure why she giggled now, sometimes, when they were alone together, but he liked to hear it. Then again, he liked all the sounds that Hermione made, from the way she'd hum a little tune under her breath when she was thinking very intently to her soft breathing when she snuggled up against his chest and fell asleep. Even Hermione's yawns and sneezes were beautiful.

"Err, no. Although I'm not sure I was really raised at all, to be honest. I know the Dursleys must have taught me to walk and talk and all of that, since I was only an infant of fifteen months when I was left with them and I couldn't have already known, but most everything I remember is being told to do chores, and then working out on my own how to do what they were telling me so I'd not be locked in the cupboard for a day with no food."

"Oh, Harry. I'm so sorry."

"It's all right. Professor Dumbledore says I'm never going back there now that I've got you to take care of, and Professor McGonagall says we can live with her during the summer if we can't get into any of my family's houses yet."

"Still, I'm sorry you had to go through that, even if it does give us another thing in common, sort of. I wasn't so much raised as _conditioned_ , myself. I was handed over to child minders and aux pairs as soon as I was old enough not to be nursing any more, although I'll grant that my mother did nurse me until I reached the age when all the best experts said I should be weaned. She'd read too many studies which said formula feeding lowered children's IQs, you see. She made a complete review of the literature on infant and child development as soon as they decided they were at a point in their careers when it was reasonable for her to be pregnant, and she was determined that everything would be perfectly correct. And before you excuse Dadd... my male parent, he agreed with her."

Harry could hear the little sob in her voice, and he squeezed her closer to him. "There was a book I read when I was maybe eight, when I was hiding from Dudley in the library. It was called _Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH,_ and it was about these rats who'd learnt to read and build things after some scientists did experiments on them. It sounds as if they treated you something like how the rats in the story were treated in the lab, before they escaped and went to build their own home."

Hermione nuzzled him. "Oh, I loved that book! In fact, it was one of the first stories I discovered that I had to hide so I'd not be lectured for wasting my time on 'fantasy and non-realistic trash.' And I do suppose I could have had it worse, in many ways. My parents made sure that everyone hired to mind me read appropriate books to me and that there was classical music on the radio. They even did random stops by the house during their work hours, to be sure I was never left to sit in front of the television. And my father made flashcards so they could quiz me on my maths and my science facts. No point in raising a daughter who'd only be good enough for the local comprehensive, after all. Or one who'd want to attend some silly girls' school that was only there to introduce the pupils to boys from Eton or Rugby."

He planted a light kiss just above her ear. "I'm sorry _you_ had to go through _that_ , Hermione."

"It's all right. We've got each other now."

"We do. And, someday, when we... well, if we..."

"When we have children, Harry?"

"Yes. I'm sorry if..."

"No, it's good. I'd like for us to have children, someday, when we're grown up. We'll raise them, won't we? We know all about two wrong ways of doing it, so at least we'll have some idea of what we shouldn't do. We'll love them and we'll be kind to them. We'll teach them all sorts of things, but they'll always know that we love them for being _them_ and not only for how quickly they can recite their times tables and their principles of transfiguration."

He kissed her again, enjoying the scent of her hair. "Or for how quickly they can catch the Snitch, either. And someday you will be Mrs. Potter, just like Professor Snape said. I asked Professor Dumbledore, and he says that when we're adults and I've come into my full rights as Head of House Potter I'll be able to make you a Vassal of the House and marry you. That is, if you'd like me to marry you."

"Oh, Harry, of course. But you do know I'll still want to call you my master, sometimes? Just because I like to."

"As long as you'll still let me call you my pet?"

"Of course. You know, Master, I've been doing some reading in the library, and in a couple of books that Professor McGonagall gave me as well, and I think I've worked out why this happened to us."

"Really?" Part of Harry almost hoped his Hermione might have figured out a way to undo it, so they could just be a fiancé and fiancée who didn't need a leash and a collar, or even simple ordinary best and dearest friends until they reached the age when other people started dating. Another part of him couldn't imagine anything worse.

"It's because it was you and because it was me and because deep inside of us we _knew_ what we needed, and our magic took that need and ran with it. Maybe it even happened because I already _did_ belong to you in some way, and had since last year, even if the school records didn't show it. If somehow you hadn't been able to be there, and it had been Ron, say--"

Harry didn't intend to growl like a wolf or a bear or an old Pagan warrior in one of the Rosemary Sutcliffe books Miss Haynie, his Year Four teacher at Saint Grogory's School, had quietly lent him and helped him to hide from his relatives and the teachers who listened to them. When he first heard the sound, he thought it might be a vibration that was carrying through the castle walls, perhaps caused by something Peeves was doing upstairs or the Giant Squid moving rocks about on the lake bed to give itself a more comfortable place to sleep in. After a few seconds, he realised it was coming from low down deep in his own throat. "Sorry."

Hermione raised her head up to look at him. She was smiling brightly. "Don't be sorry, my Harry, my master, my love. I'm happy that you feel that way. Because I agree. Belonging to Ron, or to anyone other than you, would be Hell on Earth. But if it had been Ron there in the train compartment, making a promise to care for me, as unlikely as that even sounds to begin with, I would have become his sister. Because that's what Ron and I are to each other, and that's all we ever could be to each other. But because it was you... Well, eventually, in one way or another, I would have belonged to you, even if neither of us would ever have phrased it exactly that way."

"And I would have belonged to you. Because I do. You do know that, right, Hermione? I belong to you every bit as much as you belong to me, my darling pet. You might be the one wearing the collar, but it binds me just as much as it binds you, just as much as if you'd put one on me."

Hermione's eyes glittered with unshed tears, although she smiled even more brightly than he'd ever seen her smile before. "Of course. You're _my_ master, my very own Master Harry." They kissed again, on the lips, a kiss that felt as if it lasted for hours.

Even after they broke the kiss they stood where they were, holding each other in comfortable silence. But at last, Hermione whispered “Sweetest Master-mine, we'd really better go to lunch. It wouldn't do for Hannah and Susan to kidnap and interrogate Professor Snape after he's been so kind to us, would it? I'm sure they'll believe Millie and Daphne, but if we take too long, the four of them might get nervous and decide to make absolutely sure.”

Harry laughed. “They wouldn't really hurt him, would they? They're such nice people.”

Hermione giggled. “They're terribly fond of you, Harry. And Susan's aunt Amelia has taught her all sorts of things. They'd not hold back.”

“Well, we can't have that. If you're ready, my most darling pet?”

“If you are, my most darling master, I am.”

“I am.” They squeezed each other one more time and left the alcove. Harry offered Hermione his arm. She took it and, had it not been for the leash that Harry kept looped round his forefinger, they might have been any Hogwarts couple, notable only for their age; even those in arranged matches who cared for each other, such as Hannah and her betrothed, Neville Longbottom, who spent the better part of their summers together, typically didn't show affection in public until sometime in their Fourth or Fifth Year.

They were halfway to the Great Hall when a blonde girl, tiny even compared to the other First Years and wearing her Ravenclaw tie in a complex knot that might have involved one or more minor violations of the laws of physics, settled into step with them. “Good afternoon, Harry's Hermione and Hermione's Harry. May a fortunate star shine on our meeting.”

If anyone else had used such a greeting, Harry would have been sure they were making a joke. But Luna simply said things like that. It was charming, really, now he'd got used to it. He suspected the Hermione of First Year might have thought her disturbingly random, if not annoying and absurd, but he knew that the real Hermione, the Hermione who no longer worried about her parents' notions of what was right and proper and rational any more than Harry worried about the Dursleys' way of looking at things, _his_ Hermione, she liked their friend Luna every bit as much as he did. “Good afternoon, Luna of the Lovegood people,” she said. “Have the Nargles told you anything interesting since last night?”

“The Nargles haven't said a single thing, but that's just as well considering they aren't very reliable right now. There's an 'r' in the month, it's not a Leap Year, and the Moon's not waxing gibbous, so they're constitutionally unable to tell the truth, although once in a while on a day like today they might say something clearly enough that I can know they're telling me the exact opposite of what their words and images say, which works just as well as long as you know it's the case. But I don't need to rely on Nargles right now, because I can see that your auras are glowing in a simply lovely shade. Did something good happen?”

Hermione smiled and patted the younger girl's shoulder. “Something very, very good happened on the Express, Luna, and since then most of what's happened has been pretty all right. It's... well, it's nice to have friends.”

"It _is_ nice. I never really had friends before, except for Ginevra. And maybe Ronald, but he mostly used to be a bit mean to us so I'm not sure if he counted, exactly. He's become a great deal better this year, and I don't know if it's Hogwarts or just growing up or if Madam Pomfrey finally did something to moderate and control the Wrackspurts that have infested him since we were little. But I don't think that's likely, because they were very active last summer after he came home from your First Year. Why would she have waited until this year to deal with them if she were able to deal with them at all?"

Harry couldn't help smiling. Luna was endearing, and the friendship between her and his Hermione was a lovely thing to see. "I don't know, either, Luna, but he has been acting better. He's my best mate, of course, but there were a lot of times when he was a bit of a git last year, really."

"Tell me about it. Then again, it all came out right in the end, so I can't complain too much." Hermione kissed Harry on the cheek. She wouldn't have done that in front of just anyone, he knew, but Luna was the only person in sight. Luna smiled as if she understood the significance of the gesture, also.

He kissed Hermione's cheek. "So it did. And I think Lavender's a good influence on him." Their friends weren't actually a couple, of course, but Hermione thought Lavender was thinking they were headed that way in a few years and was doing her best to get Ron trained up before it became official, and Harry trusted his Hermione's judgement. A few weeks prior, Lavender had said she might ask him to give whomever she ended up stepping out with a few lessons on how to be a proper boyfriend. The memory still made him blush, although he knew it was a great honour that she not only felt that way, but trusted him enough to tell him.

"Yes, Harry. Our red-headed brother's growing up. But actually I think you're the one who's had the most influence on him."

"Me? Really?"

Luna laughed. "I overheard Ronald telling Dean Thomas that he was glad at least one of his sisters had got with a decent bloke, so he only had Ginevra to worry about. It was most amusing. Although I do hope he'll not try to set up Ginevra with Harry in the same fashion. That would be rather awkward, I think."

Harry didn't know what to say to that. He looked at Hermione, who gave him a little smile and a wink. He supposed that meant she didn't mind Luna's joke. "Err... I suppose you're right, Luna."

"Ginevra always did say she wanted to marry Harry Potter, and the three of you would look simply adorable together, in wedding robes or in any other costume whatsoever, including the prelapsarian dress, but I'd rather my first friend didn't get attacked by a troll. She has been a little bit distant, lately, but I still care for her and I miss her and I wish her well and I do hope she'll remember me once she's got over the distractions of being here at Hogwarts and all the new friends she must have made in the Gryffindor girls' dorm."

Hermione made a little interrogative noise. Harry was completely lost, but he supposed this might be something that made sense to her simply by virtue of being a girl. He hoped she'd explain it to him later, because Luna sounded terribly sad when she talked about Ginny. She was his friend and he wanted her to be happy. If there were anything they could do to help her, he'd like to know about it.

"For that matter," Luna said, "I've heard plenty of stories about troll hunting from my Daddy and my grandmother and my aunts, and I really don't want to experience them for myself, at least not right now. Especially since the Headmaster wouldn't let me bring my Holland and Holland to school, and it doesn't sound as if anything less than .500 Nitro Express is adequate for troll. I know there are folk who swear by .450 Nitro Express and .425 Westley-Richards, and at least one individual, whom I think even more dubious than our Defence instructor, claims to have taken a trophy-grade troll using an unmodified Short Model Lee-Enfield loaded with ordinary surplus Mark VII .303 ammunition, but my grandmother said she'd never seen anybody killed by dangerous game as a result of having too much gun, and in her day she _was_ the most successful Nundu hunter south of the Zambezi River, so I'm inclined to trust her judgement."

Harry _really_ didn't know what to say to that. Was Luna actually talking about guns? He'd not thought that anybody in the modern Wizarding World used firearms, but he recognised those names from some of the books he'd read in the Little Whinging library when he was hiding in the stacks. They were all Muggle rifle cartridges, most of them meant for shooting big bullets at dangerous animals, except for the .303 which was what the Army had used in both World Wars.

This was only the second reference to a firearm he'd heard at Hogwarts. Professor Binns liked to spend entire lessons on blow-by-blow accounts of individual battles during the various Goblin rebellions, which were sometimes interesting if you could ignore the monotonous droning sound of the professor's voice and stay awake enough to follow the story. On one of the days when Harry had managed that feat, Binns had told them about a siege of the old Ministry building. In the course of the fight, Edmund the Erratic had slain several Goblin warriors using "that clumsy Muggle contrivance called an hark-a-buss or a gonne, which throws a leaden ball in size between a Gobstone and a Snitch, making a loud noise and a great cloud of sulphur-stinking smoke."

Harry had read a lot of books about the Middle Ages and the Renaissance which his cousin had abandoned once he'd finished drawing a moustache on every picture of a person who hadn't already got one and scribbling every swear he knew in the margins so he could practice being a 'tagger,' whatever that was. That was what Dudley always did with the books he was given by his mother and aunt so they could show off how clever their little Dudders was. Fortunately, Dudley cared so little for words on paper that he never raised a fuss if Harry read the books once the scrawling was done, so it wasn't such a bad deal in the end. Because of that reading, Harry knew that a harquebus was an especially early sort of musket, which was what they called the guns soldiers had fought with before they had rifles, and that "gonne" was just an old-fashioned spelling of the word "gun," but he'd reckoned Edmund the Erratic was the only Wizard who'd ever used a Muggle firearm.

After all, Edmund the Erratic had also married a big-eyed purple talking pony named Eventide Glistnen who'd appeared in Suffolk in the summer of 1512. She'd claimed to have accidentally walked through a magical portal in an ancient temple in her own world, which was allegedly a place where ponies were the dominant species and there were no humans at all. The unlikely couple had made their home in a giant snail shell on wheels which they moved back and forth between Devon and Yorkshire every four months using levitation charms and a team of flying oxen. Both Reginald Charterhouse's _Famous Wizards of British History_ and Jerusalem Cosgrove's _A Genuine Relation of the Lives and Actions of Numerous Magical Heroes, Villains, and Memorable Characters_ agreed that only Uric the Oddball's pet Augureys had stopped Edmund being unanimously awarded the title of "maddest British Wizard ever," and if Uric had kept any fewer than fifty of the ominous birds Edmund might have won out. Even if he'd done one thing that worked well, nobody else in the Wizarding world would've dared to follow his example in any way.

Hermione's mouth was almost agape. "Luna? You have your own elephant gun?"

"Some people would call my double rifle that, yes, but I don't intend I'll ever shoot an elephant with her. Elephants are perfectly charming creatures, at least most of them, at least most of the time, and my grandmother made me promise never to shoot one unless I had no other choice. Not that she needed to make me, really, as I've had some very lovely conversations with elephants. To be altogether honest, I have to say that in proportion I've met far more disagreeable witches and wizards than I have disagreeable elephants."

Hermione managed a smile. "I'm glad to hear that, Luna, because they're endangered and even if they weren't I've always thought they were beautiful. But I didn't think that somebody our age could fire a double rifle at all, unless maybe it were locked down on a bench or something. They weigh so much, and some of the books I've read said many grown men weren't strong enough to handle the recoil."

"I expect that's true for Muggles, but my Holland and Holland is one of the models they make for the magical trade. They've been supplying the professional hunters who shoot dangerous animals for Potions ingredients ever since the muzzleloading days. She's a bespoke weapon, originally built for my grandmother, and she's got charms to lighten her and to dissipate the recoil, so I can keep her on target in case I need the second shot in a hurry, as one generally does if one needs it at all. There's a charm to suppress the noise of her discharge as well, which is helpful because the potions to restore one's hearing taste excessively nasty."

"Oh." Harry wished he could think of anything else to say, but he couldn't.

"That's interesting, Luna. I'd love to read about those charms, sometime."

"Holland and Holland are a bit secretive, I'm afraid, but my third cousin Caitríona Nic an Fhir Chleamhnais is a gunsmith, and if you and Harry will come to visit me sometime over the holidays when she's at our house, which is a thing I'm very much hoping you'll do, I'm sure she'd love to talk with you."

"Thank you, Luna." Hermione was glowing.

Harry loved Hermione's eager-to-learn look, and if it had been appropriate he would have kissed Luna to thank her for inducing it again. As it wasn't, he said "We'd love to visit you, if your father doesn't mind it. Thank you."

"You're welcome. And my father has mentioned in his letters that he would be delighted to meet you both."

"We'd be honoured to meet him," Hermione said.

"And in any case, Harry, I do hope that if you must go and fight with a troll in the future you'll let me know in advance. I'd feel much more comfortable if I could be there with my rifle, set up in some place with a good view of the ground where you're meeting your intended game. I'd not fire unless you were genuinely in a tight spot, of course, as I understand that you'd wish to take your trophy by virtue of your own strength and skill, but I'd rather be there to help, just in case."

Harry couldn't think of anything useful to say to that, so instead he said the only polite thing. "Thank you, Luna. I'll keep that in mind."

"Please do, Harry. My House Elf friends could get me my rifle in less than a minute if we should need her. They're very good at that sort of thing."

Hermione reached past Luna and knocked her knuckles on a section of wooden wall panelling. "Well, hopefully we'll not need to face another troll, whether it's to save Ginny or for anything else."

Harry did the same. "I agree. Once is more than enough. I'm glad of the result, but I'd rather not have to do it again. And Ginny's a nice person, but my Hermione is all the girl I need." He hugged her round the shoulders, one-armed.

Hermione laughed and hugged him back. "So, don't you want an entire harem to fan you and feed you peeled grapes, Harry-mine?"

"I can't say as I do, my own Hermione. I've got the best girl in the world, haven't I? If it's a hot day and we want to be fanned, we can use one of the magic fans that goes by itself, or even an electric one if we're not at Hogwarts. Not to mention I like grapes better with the skins on, and I'm sure I'd have lots more fun feeding them to you than having you feed them to me."

"Thank you, Harry. But what if I might like some female company? I used to desperately wish I could have sisters, and harem-sisters would do just as well as the usual kind, I should think." She winked at him. "I think some of the girls wouldn't mind. Daphne and Millie thought you were, and I quote, 'dreamy,' even last year before they'd met you properly, and Susan has always said you've got gorgeous eyes."

"Susan is absolutely right, Harry. Your eyes are gorgeous. And I happen to know that Ginevra was writing a story about Sultan Hari al-Pott'ar and his harem girls, so I feel reasonably certain she'd not mind being a part of your harem, if you should find yourself having one and if you and Hermione should like to have her as part of it. She was reading bits of it to me over the summer, a new page or two nearly every time she'd come round the Rook to visit or we'd meet at the pond for a bathe. I do hope she'll finish it some day, because it was very good. It made me feel all tingly, and I could tell it made her feel that way as well. I do like how Ginevra looks when she feels all tingly, because her aura gets such pretty colours and the expressions on her face are wonderful and her body language is charming, and I do wish I had a picture of her with that look so I could show it to you both right now. It's so much better than when she looks distant, which is how she looks now, mostly. I do hope she's feeling all right. Her aura had a bit of a nasty colour to it this morning in Transfiguration, and I've not seen it look that way before, not even when were seven and Mister Weasley took us all for a ride in a Muggle van he'd bought out of a scrapheap and rebuilt using baling wire and chewing gum in the authentic Muggle way, and she got horribly sick with all the bouncing and swaying."

Hermione hugged Harry a little closer. "I hope Ginny's feeling all right as well, Luna," she said. "I don't know her anything like as well as I'd like to know her, but she seems very nice and I'd like to become friends with her. I'd been hoping she'd spend more time with us, but I suppose maybe she's intimidated by, well, Harry's and my relationship and all of that. And, as you said, she might be distracted with getting to know the other girls in her dorm."

"Thank you, Hermione. I think she'd like to become friends with you as well. In fact, Ron mentioned you in some of his letters to her, and I'd even say she developed a bit of a crush on you. There were days last winter when she didn't want to talk about anything other than how we'd all be friends at Hogwarts. I really don't know what happened. Perhaps she made up such incredible versions of Harry and Hermione in her head that she's too intimidated to get to know the real ones properly? If she is, I'm very sorry for her, because you're both much better in reality than any imaginary versions could possibly be."

"Thank you, Luna." Harry knew that wasn't nearly strong enough a response to what she'd said, but he couldn't think of any words that were. He looked at Hermione, she looked at him, and before he could even summon up the words to describe what he and his pet had decided to do they were hugging Luna between them.

"It's just as I said," the little blonde whispered. "You're more wonderful than even the best imaginary versions of you could possibly be, because no matter how hard Ginevra or I might imagine being hugged by the two of you or how much time we might spend in imagining, it couldn't possibly feel as good as actually being hugged by the two of you does."

"Thank you, Luna," Hermione whispered. "I... I'd rather hug the real you than an imaginary version, myself."

Harry had to work his mouth for a moment before he could get the words out. "And so would I, Luna."

"Thank you. I'm sure that once Ginevra gets sense again, she'll agree with me. I'm looking forward to hugging her again. And to the two of you getting to hug her as well."

"I hope she does, Luna, but in any case..." Harry glanced quickly at Hermione, and was pleased to see her nod, "we're always more than willing to hug you."

"Thank you. I know you have each other to hug whenever you want to, well I suppose unless you're in the middle of a lesson or Harry's on his broomstick or something like that, but I'm always more than willing to hug both of you. That is, if you'd like me to."

"And of course we would, Luna," Hermione said, so quietly that only Harry and Luna could have heard her, even if there had been other folk in the corridor.

"Yes, Luna. Hermione and I, we... you're a very dear friend of ours."

"May I, Harry? And may I, Hermione?" He didn't altogether know what Luna was asking, but he knew there was only one answer. Whatever it was, it would be good and right.

"Yes." Hermione said the very same word, as if for an instant they spoke with one voice.

Very tenderly, Luna turned her head and kissed Hermione on the cheek. Harry had never imagined that seeing someone else kiss his Hermione would be so delightful. She paused for a moment, her lips on the other girl's cheek as if they might stay there forever. And then she turned her head the other way and kissed Harry's cheek. Hermione smiled sweetly all the while, as if seeing her boyfriend-master-fiancé being kissed by another girl delighted her every bit as much as that same girl kissing her had delighted him.

Luna's lips left his cheek at last. The only softer, warmer, more perfect kiss Harry had ever known was Hermione's. The little blonde beamed at them, looking just slightly uncertain, as if she wasn't sure if she'd just done the worst or the best thing she'd ever done.

A instant of wordless communication, if not communion, passed between Harry and Hermione. They pressed their lips to Luna's cheeks, pouring all their affection and friendship and loving regard into the kiss. For a moment that seemed almost to last for hours, Harry could feel the girls' emotions as if they were his own, both Luna's amazement and delight and the aching loneliness that she was beginning to believe could actually be replaced with happier feelings, and Hermione's devotion and trust and steadfast commitment and love, as well as her belief that she had nothing whatsoever to fear from Luna. Harry wasn't sure why she would specifically think about not being afraid of Luna, but he was very glad that she felt that way. He would immediately stop being friends with anyone who made his Hermione feel afraid, and he would have hated to stop being friends with Luna.

Even after Harry and Hermione broke the kiss, the three continued to stand silent and still, holding each other. At last, Luna whispered "I hate to say it, because I could happily spend an entire day like this, but hadn't we better go and eat lunch?"

"I suppose we had," Hermione said.

"Yes. I can't make my Hermione go hungry."

"And I can't make my Harry go hungry. And it would be rather rude of us to make our very favourite Luna go hungry, wouldn't it?"

Luna's smile lit up the corridor. The trio let each other go, although Harry and Hermione continued to hold hands. Luna took Hermione's free hand, and they walked together, hand in hand and hand in hand, until they were just outside the Great Hall.

"Luna," Hermione said when they paused at the threshold, "would you... well, would you like to sit with us at lunch? I don't think it's against the rules."

Harry liked the idea of Luna sitting with them. "I've seen Penelope Clearwater and her friend Smythe--she's one of the Hufflepuff Beaters, and the single most terrifying honest, fair, and friendly Quidditch player I've ever faced in my life--sitting at the Gryffindor table with Percy, so it must be all right. And it would be nice to sit with you, Luna, if you'd like to join us."

"Audrey Smythe, right?" Luna said. "They do seem to have rather a goodly amount of friendly affection for each other, the three of them. And yes, I will, if you please. There are very few things I'd like better than to take the mid-day repast in your company."

#

That night, when their homework was done, Hermione plopped herself in Harry's lap before he could even get up from the desk chair and onto the couch. She rubbed her nose against his cheek and his nose and his lips, and then they kissed. Harry wondered if this was the sort of thing that married folk did. He hoped so, because he didn't want to have to give it up when he and Hermione grew up and got married.

"Harry, could we... would it be all right if I tried something?"

"Of course, Hermione." He had no idea what she wanted to try, but since she was Hermione he knew it was the right thing, and that it would be perfect.

"If you think it's... something we should save for when we're older it's fine, but I'd kind of like to, err..." She was nibbling on her lower lip, the way she often did when she was nervous. She looked amazingly cute when she did that, although sometimes Harry worried she'd chew too hard and hurt herself.

"Whatever it is, Hermione, we can try it, as long as you want to. I trust you." Harry concentrated on the little mole beneath Hermione's right eye, willing himself to keep his voice steady. It was better if he didn't speculate about what she might want to do, because not thinking about it would help to keep his body's physical reactions under control. Hermione knew it was normal, and so did he, and they'd mutually agreed to try and ignore it until they were older. They'd also agreed not to get embarrassed, and for the most part they succeeded, but still, it felt a little awkward.

She kissed him again. And now, slowly, oh so slowly, she opened her teeth and probed at his own teeth and lips with her tongue.

He opened his teeth to her, and did his best to match what she did with her tongue with his own. She seemed to like that, to judge by the way she hugged him even closer to her.

He didn't know how much time went by as the two of them slowly, gently, and carefully snogged. But it was as long as they needed to take, and that was enough. At last, they parted lips and sat silently, nose to nose, breathing in each other's breath.

"Was that all right, my sweetest master?" Hermione whispered.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that question, my dearest pet?" He went on quickly, not wanting her to think he was reproving her. "I thought it was brilliant. I hope it was... all right for you? I don't want to make you do anything you don't want to do, and we can wait to do it again if you'd prefer it that way, even if we end up waiting till we're grown up and married..."

"It was splendid, Harry. And I certainly don't want to wait that long to kiss like that again. I do think we should wait a while before we go too much beyond what we just did, but it was really nice." She giggled. "In fact, would you like to...?"

"Yes." They locked lips and tongues once again.

"Time for bed?" Hermione said when at last they paused for breath. "We could even continue this discussion there, if you'd like to?"

"Would you like to, my wonderful pet Hermione?"

"Yes, please, my darling master Harry."

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of factors came together to lead to my writing this story.  
> One aspect that comes to mind is having read a handful of fics wherein Hermione's parents were cruel and unsupportive. I don't find that particularly likely for the canon Hermione, but I think I've come up with a more plausible idea than some I've seen, such as one that made them religious fundamentalists or another that turned them into meanspirited Yuppies more interested in their careers than their daughter.  
> In this fic, I've made them a bit like the parents of two of my ex-girlfriends, only with their negative characteristics turned up high and the positive ones (other than the will for their daugher to succeed) dampened.  
> And yes, I did apparently invent a gun-toting Tudor-era brony as a background historical character. I'm not exactly proud of how my mind works, sometimes.


End file.
